Poison Kisses and Sickly Goodness
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: DHr. Oneshot. “I hate you.” Her hissed words were like venom, the poison injected through her touch. He felt it writhe within him, his heart beating out of rhythm. Angst.


**Title: Poison Kisses and Sickly Goodness**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: DHr. "I hate you." Her hissed words were like venom, the poison injected through her touch. He felt it writhe within him, his heart beating out of rhythm. Angst.**

**A/N: Occurs in their 6th year.**

**I have a new interest in Draco Malfoy, and will be exploring it as such and subjecting you to numerous oneshots that I HOPE you enjoy! Please tell me how my writing is, because this stuff is certainly darker than what I've written in the past. I'm still updating Pink Peppermint and Fifteen Months, no worries!**

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"I hate you."

Her hissed words were like venom, the poison injected through her touch. He felt it writhe within him, his heart beating out of rhythm.

"No you don't," he would spit back, eyes alight with fury. "You couldn't hate anything, could you, Mudblood?"

She would look at him, anger disappearing like water dousing a flame, with a sympathetic look and bitten lip.

She knew she was the Light, banisher of the Dark.

But she could never pull away from him, damaged Dark goods that he was. Slowly, he would turn her too.

And he would enjoy it.

The first time she kissed him he had retched, her sweet lips still on his as he fought off the bile rising in his throat from touching the skin of a Muggle-born and _liking it oh the honey taste of those luscious lips oh Merlin, Granger_. Shoving her away in revulsion, he had wiped his mouth and eyed her as if she had truly gone batty.

"What are you playing at, you bint?" His words were bathed in spite and his lips were still stinging from her presence. "Stupid Mudblood, what if someone had seen?"

"There's no one else here," she had whispered, oddly seductive although he was sure she never meant to be, those dangerously warm eyes imploring him without words. And somehow, the second time she had touched him, he had not resisted. Folding under her butterfly-soft kisses, he had felt something akin to a thumping in his frozen-over heart.

Her sickly goodness permeated his nose, the sugar scent becoming too strong for him to bear. Nose to nose with the witch, he pulled away first before being tugged back by lithe hands for one more bruising, heartwrenching kiss before she threw him away from her with a strong push.

Like he was some commoner and she was his equal.

She enraged him, full of her _kindness_ and morals...but where had those gone, those values of hers, when she started this _game_ with him? He had tucked his own ethics away in a nice little compartment he called Before The Dark Lord, and was all the better for it.

After the Mark, there were no more niceties. She knew he had the icon of the Death Eaters burned into his flesh and he knew that she didn't want to see it. He was fully aware that by the end, he was expected to torture her, to kill her, and he would have no problem following through with those duties in the end.

He expected that she, smart Mudblood as she was, knew these terms as well.

"I hate you." His rage was palpable, and she could hear the air around them sizzling with heat from rage and passion. He was still holding her arms above her head against the brick wall, lips biting fiercely into the tender skin on her neck. He would utter cruel words as he delved into the sweet abyss of womanly touch, and she would moan for him just to feel him shudder. She refused to cry out as her knees buckled under his toxic caresses and he grabbed her around the waist before she fell.

Looking into his eyes, she saw anger and fear warring equally in those dark silver orbs.

"No you don't," she would whisper back, words devoid of resentment and lusting for his touch. "You couldn't hate anything, could you, ferret?"

He had swelled with wrath at the _gall _of the Muggleborn using his own words against him, and he had pushed her up hard against the wall and shoved a knee in between her legs until he caught the deerlike horror shining through in her naive eyes.

That was the first time he felt sorry for his actions, and he had dropped his hands and backed away from her slowly. Luckily they heard voices just then, sounding like professors patrolling the corridors, and she took her chance to bolt. She stumbled over the hem of her robe as she stepped too quickly and he had watched her, intrigued by questions he refused to ask himself. He was confused as he watched the clumsy girl in his sinister vision, the pure emblem of syrupy excellence.

She disgusted him.

They couldn't break it off, as much as they tried. She would find him in the hallway and pester him about his complexion, his sudden gauntness, the stress and lines on his face and he would push her with his brutal hands, making her fall on her hands and knees in the subservient position _she needed to learn_.

Then he would stand above her, hovering with a slight apology in his eyes and malice on his tongue until she would look up at him with those thoughtful brown eyes. He would have the urge to strike her for the _noble_ thoughts that were indubitably running through her mind.

"Think you can save me, Granger?" he would scowl at her, and she would sit back on her knees and shake that bushy mane of hair back over her shoulders. He caught a hint of jasmine in the air from her shampoo and couldn't believe that the Mudblood smelled _good_. "Think you'll be the one to stop me in the end?"

"I won't need to stop you, Draco," and there was that faultless smile again, as if she knew something he didn't. "You'll stop yourself when the time is right."

He had knelt beside her swiftly, appreciating when she backed away in alarm. Taking her delicate, trembling chin in his long-fingered hand he would haunt her lips with a searing kiss, sealing their secrets in this hallway.

"I'll never stop, Mudblood."

But he would, wouldn't he. He stopped on the tower, at the pivotal moment because of those _eyes_ that he saw in his sleep belonging to a brunette he hated beyond all reason but couldn't help agreeing with sometimes; although he'd never admit it. Her deep, omniscient eyes that could see straight through him into every crack and crevice; every tongue-lashing from his father, gentle persuasion from his mother, and all the doubts at the path he was choosing—how he hated those eyes, how they made him toss and turn in sweat at night when he couldn't shake off his thoughts of the Mudblood.

For although their kisses held no love and the attraction was from vulnerability and mutual need, she had something he wanted and she gave it to him freely.

It was _compassion_ that she gifted to a pureblood boy her age who had never seen it in such a precious package before.

In the end, he realized it was she who turned him, _not the other way around_. The Gryffindor Lioness brought out the good in the Slytherin Prince—and he hated her even more for it.

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**Hmm. What do you think? Please let me know. Also, dears, I just updated Pink Peppermint, the Harry/Ginny oneshot series. If you were referred here from there, thanks for reading and please review! Love you guys.**


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